


Under a Western Sky

by okapi



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Animals, Anthropomorphic, Gen, Lizard!John, Lizard!Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-08
Updated: 2014-07-13
Packaged: 2018-02-08 00:38:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 6,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1920123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okapi/pseuds/okapi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and John are New Mexico whiptails (<i>Aspidoscelis neomexicana</i>). With a pair of biologists watching, they investigate a series of mysterious deaths in arid shrublands of the southwestern United States.</p><p>Lizard!Sherlock/Lizard!John. </p><p>Animal AU with some anthropomorphism (e.g., animals can read, appreciate music, communicate across species, but not with humans).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [philalethia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/philalethia/gifts).



> [New Mexico whiptails](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/New_Mexico_whiptail) ( _Aspidoscelis neomexicana_ ) are an all-female, parthenogenic species of lizard that live in the southwestern United States and northern Mexico, primarily the Rio Grande river valley. Despite reproducing asexually, they also engage in mating behavior (pseudocopulation). They are diurnal and insectivorous.
> 
> Setting loosely based on Bosque del Apache National Wildlife Refuge in New Mexico.  
> Written with expert herpetological consultation by my own Harry Watson!

“Hey, Greg! Come here, man!”

“What?”

“Reviewing today’s footage. You aren’t going to believe this. You know the whiptail with the dark blue throat? Specimen two-two-one-dash-B?”

“Yeah, what’s she up to? Pseudocopulating with that little one with the scar? Those two lizards fuck like rabbits.”

“Nah. We’re going to have to stop calling her Blue Scarf and start calling her Sherlock because she just uncovered a serial killer.”

“Huh?”

“Look at the footage, man.”

 

 

**EARLIER…**

_Sherlock! Come back!_

**_Interesting._ **

_Get out of the road. You’re going to get yourself killed. Just like that unfortunate creature._

**_This wasn’t here this morning, John._ **

_No, it wasn’t. Because_ we _were here this morning. Because this is the best place for beetles, and I love beetles._

John rooted around in the soil at the base of a rock and snapped a beetle in her mouth.

_Yum!_

Sherlock studied the lump on the road, swishing her tail as she circled it. She was long for her species, black with seven yellow stripes that ran the length of her back. Her slim, pointed snout was directed at the object of her curiosity, and her forked tongue darted out to taste, more precisely, to smell. Her dark blue throat faded to a light blue underbelly. The tip of her tail was also blue. Her body was covered with smooth, rectangular scales.

John eyed Sherlock from the rocks where she was foraging for beetles. She was similar, but much smaller than Sherlock, and brown to Sherlock’s black. Her cream stripes were interrupted by a wide ban of dark, distorted scales that covered half her back. Though hard and crusted to touch, the scar made her look as if she was melting in the afternoon sun. John’s throat and the tip of her tail were a blue-green.

**_This was a kangaroo rat, specifically an Ord’s kangaroo rat. Dipodomys ordii._ **

_Look who’s showing off. Rattling off genus and species. Whipping your tail about. You do it just to look cool._

**_We’re whiptails, John. It’s what we do: tail-whipping. As far as the Latin…_ **

_One day, those biologists are going to realize that you sneak into their tent, Sherlock._

**_Doubtful. Homo sapiens are a singularly unimaginative species._ **

_If they’re so unimaginative, why do you keep looting their stuff, huh?_

Sherlock closed her eyes to slits and extended her forked tongue in John’s direction.

**_For the books. And the toys. Please come out to the road, John._ **

_Oh, alright. This had better be good._

John quickly closed the distance between herself and Sherlock. Her eyes darted up and down the road.

**_This was a kangaroo rat._ **

_Yeah, I heard that, Sherlock; no need to repeat yourself. What am I doing here again? Being in the road makes me nervous._

**_Genius needs an audience, John. Please let me finish._ **

_Oh, by all means, Genius._ John rolled her eyes.

**_This is the third kangaroo rat that we’ve found killed on the road._ **

_No mystery there, Sherlock. Happens all the time. They hop in front of headlights and freeze and wham! No more kangaroo rat. That’s why we need to get out of here before we become whiptail pancakes._

**_Exactly. Headlights. Which are on at night. This particular kangaroo rat was killed during the day. Today. Because we were here earlier and it wasn’t here. How many kangaroo rats do you know that come out during the day? They rest during the day, plugging their burrows with soil to maintain an optimal temperature and humidity._ **

_True. They are nocturnal animals. But I guess…something…made it come out. And look what it got for its trouble? Squish! Maybe it was hungry. Like I am._ John looked back at the rocks. _Beetles._

**_Perhaps, but doubtful. Ord’s kangaroo rats typically cache tremendous amounts of food in their main burrow and addition food in shallow burrows in their environs. We need to visit this animal’s burrow and gather more data._ **

_Sherlock, I don’t think…_

The ground vibrated.

_Sherlock!_

The lizards skittered into a dense copse of shrubs. A Jeep passed.

_U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service. Returning to the ranger’s station up the road._

**_With a stain on the driver’s side front tire that will test positive for kangaroo rat. We need to get a sample to the lab._ **

_We don’t have a lab, Sherlock. We’re lizards._

**_Pity that._** Sherlock slanted her head and scratched idly at the ground. **_I’ve been so bored, John. It’s been hatefully quiet._**

John flicked her tail so that the very tip tickled Sherlock’s neck.

_Alright, Sherlock. Let’s follow the tracks and go back to the rat’s burrow and see what happened._

Sherlock scurried along the edge of the road near the lump.

**_Interesting. John?_ **

_Hmm?_

**_There aren’t any tracks._ **

_What? That rat came from somewhere. And there hasn’t been any rain in a long time. Maybe it came from other side of the road._

Sherlock flitted across the road and continued her search.

**_Correction: no obvious tracks. There is a faint marking, but it seems…_ **

Sherlock travelled further away from the road, flicking her tongue at the ground as she went.

**_…as if something or someone was being very careful. But not careful enough._ **

**_Come on!_ **


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock’s tail was sticking out of the burrow.

**_Stored food looks untouched, but there is some interesting scratching._ **

_So, it wasn’t hungry._

**_But looks like it left in a hurry._ **

_Maybe the neighbors know something._  

John approached a nearby burrow. She stuck her snout in the entrance and flicked her tongue. 

 _Excuse me, excuse me? We’re wondering if you saw or heard anything unusual earlier today._  

The kangaroo rat screamed and kicked dirt in John’s eyes. John retreated. 

_Well, that was just rude. I am no threat to it, Sherlock._

**_Nevermind. Let’s go home. I need to think. I need…something…to stimulate my mental faculties._ **

_Sherlock…_

**_Just termites, John. Or beetle larvae. My peyote days are over._ **

_Better be._

 

 

_Sherlock, I’m starving and we’re only half-way home. There are some ants over there._

**_Oh, okay. I’ll wait._ **

John rushed over to the line of ants and gobbled up a few. Then, she coughed and sputtered.

_Bleh! Bleh! I’m no connoisseur, but those have to be the worst tasting ants ever._

**_Ants don’t have a taste._ **

_Sherlock, these ants are_ awful _._

_What?_

**_Those ants. Look at what they’re carrying. It’s a toe. A reptile toe._ **

_Ugh! And that’s part of a tail, Sherlock. Was I just an accidental cannibal? Creepy._

**_John…_ **

_Okay, don’t give me that look. Let’s head up stream, so to speak, and see where they’re coming from. But I reserve the right to eat a few along the way. Well, a few of the ones that aren’t carrying body parts._  

Sherlock didn’t reply. She had already skittered ahead.


	3. Chapter 3

_Hope we’re close. Hot. Tired. And did I mention hungry?_

**_The ants are coming from that crevice in the rock._ **

Sherlock and John approached the site, swarming with ants.

**_Get rid of them, John._ **

_Hey, hey, get away!_

John dashed to and fro, using her tail like a broom, sweeping the ants.

_Hey! Don’t you know a brushfire veteran when you see one!_

John did an about-face, flashed her scar at the ants, and quickly turned back. They scattered.

_I will eat every single one of you nasty fuckers!_

John lunged at the ants, snapping. In a few moments, there were only a few stragglers left, which John ate.

**_Nice touch. You haven't played the veteran card in ages. Did you enjoy it?_ **

_Oh yeah._

**_Well, here we are. Now, this_ is _interesting._**

Sherlock squeezed in the crevice and examined the pieces of flesh decorating the rock walls. She flicked her tongue over every part of the scene. Then, she crept out, backwards.

 _You’re going to have to explain it to me, Sherlock, because I am not getting this. What_ is _it?_

**_Chuckwalla. Sauromalus ater. Although what it is doing this far east, I don’t know._ **

_And something tore it to pieces. In that tiny crack._

**_Look for yourself, John_. **

John stuck her head in the crevice.

_Kind of sad. Tourist comes to town and gets ripped to shreds. Animals here ought to be more hospitable._

**_Look carefully, John. Those are not teeth marks._ **

_Of course, they are. Wait, you’re right. Those don’t look like teeth marks._

When John pulled out of the crevice, Sherlock was pacing back and forth, swishing her tail violently.

_If it wasn’t bitten, then how did it die, Sherlock?_

**_You know my methods. Apply them._ **

_Well, whatever it was didn’t eat it. Much of the flesh is left. What the ants didn’t carry off already, of course. And it just happened. The larger scavengers haven’t found it yet, and it is still somewhat wet. In this heat, it’ll be very dry, very soon._

**_Good, good. Chuckwallas have a unique defense mechanism. They hide in small crevices and swallow air to inflate their stomachs. They swell in the tight environment, and it makes them more difficult for predators to dislodge._ **

_Sherlock, you’re joking. You think something…popped it?_

**_One possibility. The other is that it exploded itself. It consumed so much air that its own body burst._ **

_Lizard suicide? Impossible._

**_No, not impossible. Merely improbable. And when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth! So many questions. John, John, John. I’m missing something. Something critical. Argh!_ **

Sherlock thrashed about with eyes closed. John waited, but when it seemed like Sherlock would be occupied for some time, she crawled slowly up the side of the rock, muttering to herself.

_Kind of sad I shooed those ants away. Then at least I’d have a snack. Not that anybody cares._

John cast a glance at Sherlock, but she was lost in her own thoughts. John reached the top of the rock and looked down at the scene.

_Ah, there’s the head. What’s left of it. Poor bugger. Eyes open. Looks scared to death._

_RIP, stranger._

Sherlock was still, seemingly staring at pebble of dried corn. She whipped around towards John.

**_What did you say?!_ **

_I said “RIP, stranger.” It’s a common courtesy, Sherlock. Not that you know anything about that. Common courtesy. Such as the common courtesy of not dragging your mate all over the place without her supper._

**_Before that._ **

_I said, “Poor bugger. It looks scared to death.”_

**_John... John! You are amazing! You are fantastic!_ **

_Yes, all right. You don't have to overdo it!_

**_You've never been the most luminous of lizards but as a conductor of light you are unbeatable!_ **

_Cheers... what?_

**_I need a Field Guide._ **

_Biologists’ tent is that way._

**_Ranger’s station is closer! Come on!_ **

_Sherlock!_

**_What?_ **

_What about supper? Termites, beetles?_

**_How can you think about_ food _at a time like this, John! The game is afoot!_**

_Oh, well, in that case._ John rolled her eyes. _Hey! Wait for me!_


	4. Chapter 4

_I swear, Sherlock, there had better be a four-course meal waiting for me at the end of this business._

_Oh no!_

John and Sherlock ran to the Park-Ranger-sized lump lying motionless beside a picnic table. Sherlock positioned herself on the Ranger’s chest, and John hopped about his neck and head.

**_Pulse?_ **

_No!_

**_Breathing?_ **

_No!_

**_Still warm?_ **

_Yes!_

The man’s left arm was clutching his chest. His face was flush, eyes open, tongue protruding. Sherlock hurried to the man’s feet and pushed up the hem of his trousers with her snout. She flicked her tongue along the Ranger’s skin. John stilled.

_This is John, Sherlock. Look at his badge._ My _John. You call me Watson because of that silly story you read. I call myself John because of him. He saved me—hell, he saved a lot of us—during the brushfire. He actually put me in his pocket—quite possibly_ this _pocket, I can’t remember a lot of the details—and carried me to the biologists’ tent—where I met you, raiding it like a fucking pirate. You think it’s related to the others? The rat and the chuckwalla?_

**_Yes._ **

Only the tip of Sherlock’s excited tail was visible from the Ranger’s trouser leg.

John scampered to the top of the picnic table.

_What are you doing, Sherlock?! Show a little respect. This isn’t some rat or even a sight-seeing lizard. This was one of the good guys. Just so I know, do you care about that at all?_

**_Will caring about him help figure out what killed him?_ **

_Nope._

**_Then I'll continue to not make that mistake._ **

_And you find that easy, do you? Given what he means to me? Means to us, really?_

**_Yes. Very. Is that news to you?_ **

_No. No._

John flipped her back to Sherlock. Sherlock peeked out of the trouser leg.

**_I've disappointed you._ **

_Good. That's good deduction. Yeah._

**_Don't make lizards into heroes, John. Heroes don't exist and if they did I wouldn't be one of them. Please help me look for any bites, any holes, no matter how tiny. Try his arms, wrists, the web of his hands or maybe the neck..._ **

John didn’t move.

**_Oh, you’re angry with me, so you won’t help. Not much cop, this caring lark._ **

John spun around.

_Here’s my deduction: John just died. His coffee._

John gently tapped the cup with her tail and brushed two unopened sugar packets.

_Spoon’s still here. Still piping hot. No time to even put sugar in it. Took off his jacket._

John pointed her tail at a brown bundle of fabric tucked under the far side of the body.

_Sat down to drink his coffee and something happened._

**_That’s good, John. I don’t see any bites._ **

_So what, he just collapsed?_

**_So it seems._ **

_Do you still need a Field Guide?_

Sherlock stopped and scuttled towards a small brown stone. She studied it with her tongue.

**_No. I think I’ve identified the culprit._ **

**_And he’s still here._ **

Something moved beneath the jacket, something that made a menacing rattle. Both lizards froze.

**Yesss. Well done. I’d applaud, Sssherlock Holmesss. But you sssee, I’m out of handsss at the moment.**

_Run, Sherlock!_


	5. Chapter 5

Sherlock didn’t run. The snake rose up and hissed. He flicked his forked tongue. Sherlock flicked hers. They stared at each other from across the Ranger’s body.

Then, the snake slithered out of the jacket and across the body. Sherlock retreated slowly.

The snake’s scales were patterned with concentric diamonds of white, black, and dark brown. The very tip of the tail—that continued to rattle—was cut short, the last two rattles lost. One eye was missing; gouged and scarred scales lay in its place. The other eye was a dark emerald colour. The contrast gave the snake a demonic countenance, further enhanced by the coiling and uncoiling, the hissing, the off-beat rattling, and the lightening-fast flicks of the tongue.

**_What’s your name? Moriarty? Or would you prefer the Latin? Crotalus atrox?_ **

**Moriarty! That’sss good. Quite good. Yesss, call me Moriarty. It will be the lassst thing you do.**

The snake approached Sherlock. Sherlock fought against the involuntary twitching of her body. The snake flicked his tongue across her snout. The rattling reached a crescendo.

**_You’re not going to kill me._ **

**No?**

**_No._ **

The rattling stopped. Moriarty recoiled in slight retreat, with head cocked to the side.

**Why not?**

_**Obvious.** _

**Off you go, then.**

**_I am not afraid of you._ **

**Good.**

**_You feed on fear. The taste of adrenaline and other chemicals that animals exude when afraid._ **

**That’sss very good.**

**_You didn’t bite your victims, and you didn’t eat them._ **

**Eating is boring. I can go yearsss without food, Sssherlock Holmesss. This body—much like yoursss—is just transssport, sssuch that it is. I don’t even have limbsss! Or eyelidsss! Boo-hoo!**

**_You scared them to death. You let their own protective mechanisms kills them. The rat. The chuckwalla._ **

**The rat was easssy-peasssy. Now, Chuckie, Chuckie. What to sssay about Chuckie? Essstimable travelling companion, asss they go, but ssso prone to exaggeration, that isss, inflation. Hee, hee.**

**_And the Ranger?_ **

**Well, everybody needsss a challenge, Ssssherlock. I get so bored! Have you ssset yourself a “reach" goal? Oh, you mussst, you mussst. You’ll ssstagnate if you don’t. That brilliant reptilian mind of yoursss will grow ssstale. We’re very much a like you and I.**

**_We’re nothing alike. Except for belonging to the same Squamata order of animals and the forked tongues—which is why the neighbour rats were so skittish when John try to interview them. How do you know about me?_ **

**You’re too modessst.**

**_I’m really not._ **

**You have a reputation that proceedsss you—even out wessst . Animalsss come to you. ‘Oh, Sssherlock, I have a tiny problem’, ‘Oh, Sssherlock, there’sss a ssspot of bother’ and you fix thingsss for them.**

**_Just so. But felling an adult human without a bite? Well, that's just...neat._ **

**Homo sssapiensss. The male of the ssspeciesss is so excitable. Essspecially when confronted with an unexpected threat to hisss genitalia.**

Both felt the vibration of approaching footsteps. Boots.

****Well, I’d better be off. Ssso nice to have had a proper chat,** Sssherlock Holmesss. **

The snake drew back.

_This is for John, motherfucker!_

With a hard tap of her tail, John tipped the cup, sending hot liquid cascading onto the snake’s head from the picnic table.

**Argh!**

Moriarty recoiled, quivering. Then, he hissed and lashed out at the wooden table.

John raced down, diving into the crease created by of the Ranger’s folded arm.

Moriarty lunged again and sank his fangs into the skin of the Ranger's arm.

“John!” A human voice cried out.

**_John!_ **

Sherlock twitched and rose up to full height on her front legs, eyes frantically scanning the Ranger’s body.

“Are you okay?” The man’s voice grew louder.

Sherlock hid under the jacket.

**_Are you okay? John, I can’t see you._ **

“John! Snake! Oh my God! You one-eyed, snub-tailed motherfucker! What did you do to John?!”

Moriarty released the Ranger's arm and zipped into the shrubs, hissing. Boots followed.

“I’m going to get you, you piece of shit!”

**Your little companion, Sssherlock, hasss made me ssshow my hand and won me an enemy. How dissstresssing! You know what’sss going to happen to you, Sssherlock Holmesss?**

**_Oh, let me guess: I get killed._ **

**Kill you? N-no, don’t be obviousss. I mean, I’m going kill you anyway sssome day. I don’t want to russsh it, though. No, I owe you sssomething, Sssherlock Holmesss: sssomething awful, sssomething that will chill your veinsss.**

**_I have been reliably informed that my blood is already quite cold._ **

**But we both know that’sss not quite true. There’sss sssomething, or rather sssomeone, that warmsss you. Ta, ta for now.**

One green eye flashed and then disappeared into the undergrowth.

“Where’d he go? I’m going to get the kit, John, and call for help. Don’t worry. You’ll be right as rain in no time, podjo.” A door slammed, and a voice barked into a CB radio.

“This is Ranger Station Baker. We’re in need of immediate medical assistance...”

**_John!_ **

John peeked out from the space between the Ranger’s arm and his torso.

_Are you okay, Sherlock?_

**_I’m fine, John. What were you thinking?!_ **

_I could ask you the same thing._

John crawled slowly towards Sherlock.

**_Let’s go._ **

At the edge of the shrubs, John stopped and looked back.

“John! John! They’re on their way. Hang on, man.” The man rushed to the body. He knelt beside his companion and cradled him in his arms, rocking him. “Hang on, Baby Bear. Papa Bear’s here. And I swear to God, if it’s the last thing I do, I’m gonna get that fucking snake.”

**_John. There’s nothing more to do here. Let’s go home._ **

Sherlock nudged John with her snout.

**_Come on._ **

_He saved me again. He really was one of the good guys. To the end._ _RIP, Ranger John._

John turned and followed her mate.


	6. Chapter 6

“I don’t get it, Mike,” said Greg.

“Alright, if I put them side by side, maybe it’ll be clearer. Here are our girls, looking at something in the road. Now time lapse it back a couple of hours....” Mike swiped the large screen with his finger. “...and here’s a snake, chasing a kangaroo rat into the road.”

“Huh, strange, he runs it right into the Ranger’s Jeep. Western Diamondback Rattlesnake.”

“Precisely. Next, here are our girls again. See, that crevice.”

“Ants.”

“Yup, now time lapse that back, and we’ve got a snake and a chuckwalla—“

“What’s a chuckwalla doing this far east?”

“Dunno. The camera angle’s not right so we don’t see what happens in the rocks, but a snake and a chuckwalla go in, and then, only the snake comes out. Here’s a nice shot. Let me blow it up. Look at that snake.”

“One eye.”

“Yup. He’s seen some trouble somewhere. Now, here’s where things get interesting, in a horrible, horrible way—“

_Doo-doo-doo-doo!_

“Stamford. Hello, Ranger Bill. What? Christ, that’s tragic. A one-eyed rattlesnake? That missing part of its tail? Yes, yes, in fact, we have seen him. We’ve got something that you really, really need to see.”

 

 

“Jesus Christ on a pogo stick! If I didn’t see it, I wouldn’t have believed it.”

The big man took off his hat and scratched his head. Three sets of eyes stared at the screen.

“Here’s Ranger John, sitting down, cup of coffee, and then," said Mike, pulling up another window.

“Zoom in there, Mike,” said Greg.

“Shit! That snake pops up and tries to bite his dick! And poor John just keels over. Jesus fucking Christ!” The Ranger paused. “He always had a bad ticker.” He wiped his face with his hand and then pointed to the screen. “That snake! That snake is nothing but evil.”

Mike nodded.

As the events transpired on the screen, the Ranger continued, “I’m going to Las Cruces tonight to see John’s family. Then, I’m going to give my statement to the regional office first thing in the morning. I’ll be back tomorrow. Find me that snake. Conservation or no conservation: I’m gonna make him into a belt and make him sniff mine ‘til Kingdom come! Evil, just plain evil!”

The Ranger shoved his hat back on his head. “Hey, look at that little lizard!” He leaned closer to the screen. “He’s got some balls! Pourin’ coffee on that snake! Get ‘em, little buddy!”

“Uh, technically, the New Mexico whiptail doesn’t have...” Mike stood behind the Ranger and motioned for Greg to stop talking. Greg stopped talking.

The Ranger left the tent. He turned back at the Jeep. “Say, why’d y’all have a camera pointed at the Ranger station anyway?”

The two biologists froze.

Mike stammered, “It, uh, was knocked around by a coyote. By accident. Last night. It was originally facing south.”

The Ranger nodded and waved, “Alright. Thanks. See you tomorrow.”

Rocks and sand crunched under tires, and the Jeep shrunk into the horizon.

 

“Papa Bear figures out what you were up to, Greg, and he’ll make you into boots! Pervert!”

“Shut up! Hey, we need to find that snake before he does.”

“How'd you figure that?”

“Have you ever seen a Western Diamondback, hell, any snake, exhibit that kind of behaviour? We track him, study him...”

“Publish,” they said in unison.

Mike nodded. “Maybe it’s a new species...”

“We’d never have to beg another grant dollar again,” said Greg. “Tenure! Keynotes!”

“Wouldn’t that be nice? Hell, they’d name it after _us_! Alright, let’s find that snake.”


	7. Chapter 7

Sherlock heard the rattle outside the burrow.

John did not stir; her chest expanded and contracted with a steady rhythm. If Sherlock had not been awake for some time, she mightn’t have heard it either, so faint was the noise, but upon reaching her ears, it was unmistakable.

Sherlock eased out of the burrow, taking great pains not to wake John. Once above ground, she scanned the environment, but the only visible sign of the snake were tracks, clear tracks, obvious tracks—tracks that were the equivalent of a neon sign flashing ‘Rattlesnake Went Here.’ Sherlock followed the tracks, flicking her tongue and pausing often to hide and observe the path.

The path was a long one, and the change in humidity told Sherlock that she was nearing the lake. The tracks disappeared down a hill to an open area. Sherlock abandoned her trail to survey the valley ahead from a high vantage point. The tracks seemed to end at a series of burrows or one burrow with a series of entrances. A brown turtle was leisurely munching on vegetation in the centre of the expanse. No other animals were visible.

**_No sign of Moriarty, but the tracks definitely end there. Time for stealth._ **

Sherlock found the nearest expanse of dark mud. She thrashed about in the mud until most of her body was splotched a dark black.

**_Now for a spot of colour. John will be upset she missed this._ **

With her teeth, Sherlock very carefully lodged a broken twig between two rocks. Then, she careened into the stake. She felt the tiny drip of blood ooze down her back. Then, she tumbled down the path at full speed and landed right in front of the turtle.

**_Ooh! Um, sorry to disturb you. Um, I’ve just been attacked. Umm, please could you help me? My name is Father Barred Tiger Salamander, of the Order of Ambystoma tigrinum mavortium. Could I use your burrow? Just for a second._ **

The turtle said nothing. It blinked and continued to chew its leaves.

**_No? No? No. Okay. Sorry to disturb you._ **

Sherlock limped a few steps away. She stopped and looked back, but the turtle had not moved or changed its expression.

**_Hmm. Let’s try something else._ **

Sherlock found a shallow bank and washed the mud from her body. She returned to the turtle.

**_Hiii! Um, I live in the burrow just over there. I-I don’t think we’ve met. I’ve just moved in._ **

Sherlock blinked quickly and whipped her tail.

**_Actually, my burrow entrance just caved in and I was wondering if I could use one of these entrances here._ **

The turtle chewed. Sherlock’s tail whipped faster. She dropped all pretence.

**_Listen, Mister..._ **

**Colonel.**

Sherlock stared at the turtle.

**Moran.**

**_Listen, Colonel Moran...No, wait. You’re a box turtle, a Terrapene ornata luteola. How could you possibly be a colonel? How could you possibly have survived...six...brushfires?_ **

The turtle withdrew its limbs and head into its shell; with a hinged lower shell covering its base, the animal was completely enclosed.

**_Oh, well. Sure. In that case. At any rate, my name is Sherlock, and I..._ **

The turtle’s head popped out.

**Sherlock? Why didn’t ye say so?**

The turtle’s legs appeared, and it pushed itself to standing. Very, very slowly, it turned.

On the back of the turtle’s shell, painted in caked black mud, were the letters I-O-U.

**Message for ye.**

**_Yes, yes, message received. Where is he? Where’s Moriarty?_ **

**Jim? Jim’s gone to see an ol’ buddy of his. Name of John.**

Sherlock froze.

**_The burrow! John!_ **

She flew like lightening up the hill.


	8. Chapter 8

“We’ve seen every snake that’s out here.”

“Except the one we want.”

“Christ, it’s hot.”

The two men hiked over the ridge and saw the parked Jeep. The Ranger hurried out of the tent.

“I got that motherfucking snake’s twenty! It’s High Noon for Mr. No Legs! Thanks, boys!”

The Ranger trotted past them. Greg ran into the tent and looked at the screen.

“You were right, Mike. He went to the whiptails’ burrow!”

“Come on!”

The three headed west at full tilt: the Ranger ahead and the two biologists behind.

Suddenly, they halted and cried in unison:

“Smoke!”

 

 

By the time Sherlock reached the burrow, the hot sun was beating down on her back with a vengeance. She crept toward the entrance. Her eyes darted to and fro.

John’s blue-green tail protruded from the burrow. It whipped violently.

**_John!_**

**_Moriarty is on his way!_ **

Sherlock moved closer.

**_John? Come on!_ **

Sherlock put the tip of the tail in her mouth. She pulled.

It was just the tail. Detached. Wriggling. Sherlock gasped.

With a flurry of soil, Moriarty popped up.

**Left you a messsage! Thought you might come by!**

**_Where’s John?_ **

**Oh, your pet? Ssshe fought ,Sssherlock. Ssshe fought like a sssoldier. Gave up her tail and everything. Very brave. But bravery isss by far the kindessst word for ssstupidity, don’t you think?**

**_So I’ve been told._ **

**But in the end, ssshe got ssscared. Ssso sssweet, her fear. Deliciousss! Yesss, ssshe got ssscared. Like they all do. Ssshe begged. Ssso prettily. ‘Pleassse God let me live!’ I let her live. Jussst ssso you could sssee her die.**

Moriarty slithered behind the burrow entrance to a rock wall dusted with dry leaves. A sweep of his tail revealed John, tailless, pinned in mid-air against the rock by a fallen limb. She thrashed and swore.

_Errr! Damn Snake! Sherlock! Go! Get the Fuck Out of Here! Run! Ugh! Motherfucker! Errr!_

Moriarty positioned himself between Sherlock and John, coiling and uncoiling. He continued.

**I can sssee why you like having her around. But then animalsss do get so sssentimental about their petsss.**

Moriarty flicked his tongue over the John’s pale underbelly as she struggled.

**_Nonsense. Please eat her._ **

_Sherlock!_

Moriarty’s eyes followed Sherlock’s pacing. John exhaled and squeezed herself against the rock. She slipped slightly downwards.

**_You’d actually be doing me a favour. I’ve thought for some time that I need a mate who not just conducts light; I need a mate who magnifies it. One that sets my mind afire. Well, you know. You have the Colonel._ **

Sherlock moved backwards, and Moriarty tilted his head and slithered forward.

**The Colonel? Yesss, yesss. Very ssstoic, that one. Ssstiff upper lip and hard ssshell and all that. Not much of a conversssationalist, mind you, but keepsss a very fine burrow. Couldn’t asssk for nicer accommodationsss, thisss ssside of the Rio Grande.**

**_You seem open-minded. Perhaps you and I could come to an arrangement, a meeting of the minds, if you will._ **

With Sherlock retreating and Moriarty advancing, the pair danced further away from the rock. John slunk lower.

**Hmmm. Sssherlock, you’re on the ssside of the angelsss...**

_VATICAN CAMEOS! So long, stupid snake!_

John slid down the rock and hit the ground running.

Moriarty hissed and raced after John.

**FLIRTING ISSS OVER! DADDY’SSS HAD ENOUGH NOW!**

Sherlock dove into the burrow and pulled out a glass lens. She raked a pile of dried grass and leaves into a pile with her tail and angled the lens toward the centre of it. The sun’s rays hit the circle and bore down on the kindling. A ribbon of smoke curled.

**_Come on, come on, come on!_ **

_SHERLOCK!_

Sherlock fanned the pile with her tail. There was a spark, and then the mound was aflame.

**_NOW, JOHN!_ **

Sherlock dropped into the burrow as the fire spread.

 

John, for her part, had never run faster in her life—not even during the brushfire. She led Moriarty on a wide chase that curved back to its start. She leapt and plummeted over the undulating terrain in an effort to stay a tail’s length ahead of the serpent. Her heart pounded, and her legs burned. She heard Sherlock’s reply to her call and knew that their survival depended on one second of timing. With a burst of speed, she barrelled down the home stretch, with Moriarty’s forked tongue almost licking her phantom tail. A breath’s distance from the line of flames, she made a sharp turn and tumbled down a back entrance to the burrow, collapsing it. She landed atop a trembling Sherlock.

_Sherlock!_

**_John!_ **

Moriarty screamed.

**Argh! Ugh, ugh, ugh! Oh, that wasss clever, clever, my girlsss, but not clever enough.**

A smouldering leaf fell into the burrow. Smoke filled the cavity where Sherlock and John lay panting. Straining to breathe, they scrambled through the tunnels to an unused side exit as more leaves filled the entrance. A grey cloud chased them.

They both stilled at the vibration.

_Boots!_

**_Boots!_ **

POW! POW!

_Oh my God!_

**_Bullets!_ **

Sherlock and John huddled tighter together.

“You’re ass is grass, Mr. No Legs!”

“Don’t shoot him! We want to trap him!”

“Don’t shoot, for Christ’s sake, don’t shoot!”

“Sorry, boys, this one’s mine! This one’s for John!”

Sherlock and John poked their heads out of the burrow to the sight of Moriarty skidding toward the horizon with the Park Ranger and two biologists in pursuit.

POW! POW!

“Stop shooting! You’re going to kill him!”

“That’s the point!”

**IRENE! IRENE, MY DEAR! SSSTAYING ALIVE!**

A hawk appeared from the clouds. She swooped down and lifted the snake off the ground in her claws. She passed far above John and Sherlock’s upturned snouts. Moriarty dangled.

**Ciao, Sssherlock Holmesss. Wrong day to diiie! For everybody! Boo-hoo!**

**_Catch you later!_ **

**No, you won’t!**

Two sets of lizard eyes and three sets of human eyes stared disbelievingly as the hawk and snake disappeared into the afternoon sun. Burning grass crackled and spit.

“Alright, we need to get this fire under control before the whole quadrant goes up in flames!”

**_John, perhaps we should retire to the Sussex quadrant burrow until things..._ **

_Cool down?_

**_Yes. I can tend my beetle larvae, and you can have supper._ **

John brushed her snout against Sherlock’s.

 

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pseudocopulation among whiptails is thought to spur ovulation. Pairs trade positions (top/bottom) each mating season, and the mate on the bottom produces larger eggs. The song mentioned is "Luckenbach, Texas" by Waylon Jennings.

_Ugh. We’re going to have to build a bigger burrow. I am FOB: full of beetles._

**_Then perhaps a little music to aid digestion?_ **

Sherlock swiped a small square with her foot. Then, she nudged a pair of headphones; a violin sonata flooded the burrow.

**_Bach. That biologist is an idiot, but he has excellent taste in music._ **

_It’s nice, Sherlock._

**_John, fire exposes our priorities._ **

_Moriarty would rather avoid a bullet hole than roast us to death?_

**_Perhaps, but I meant the brushfire. It brought you to me._ **

_What are you trying to say, Sherlock?_

**_John, that, thing that you...that you did...with your tail...that was...good._ **

_You’re my mate, Sherlock. It’s what mates do. Sure you don’t want to trade me in for a better model?_

**_That was just distraction. I was biding my time. Knew you’d break free._ **

_No you didn’t. Sherlock, it’s how you get your kicks: you risk your life to prove you’re clever. I know that. I go along because I’m as big an idiot as you are. We’re mates._

**_I don’t have mates, John._ **

_No?_

**_No, I just have one._** Sherlock nuzzled John’s scarred back down to the stub of her tail.

_My tail will grow back, Sherlock._

**_But it won’t be as long or as pretty as the original._ **

_It was never that long or pretty to begin with._

**_You’ve lost a great deal of fat storage._ **

_True. Maybe we should think about an early hibernation this year._

**_Perhaps. And beetles. Every day._ **

_Yea!_

**_And, well, I should have the larger clutch this year._ **

Sherlock kicked dirt behind her, forming a shallow trench. She snuggled down in the space.

_Sherlock, is that your very reptilian way of asking me to top?_

**_Well..._ **

_I’ve got one rule..._

**_Oh, alright._ **

John skittered over to the square. She pushed the ring with her foot and then tapped it. Violins were replaced with the single strum of a guitar.

John slowly crawled atop Sherlock. Sherlock wriggled.

A gravelly voice crooned:

“The only two things in life / That make it worth livin' / Is guitars to tune good / And firm feelin' women

I don't need my name in the marquis lights / I got my song and I got you with me tonight

Maybe it's time we got back to the basics of love”

****

 

“Good night, ladies,” said Mike, turning off the monitor, “Sleep well.”

“Mike! Have you seen my shuffle?”

“Nope.”

“That’s the third one I’ve lost out here! I wonder where they all go.”

“Who knows? Maybe Sherlock takes them.”

“Yeah, right. Sad about the snake?”

“Yeah. But not as sad as Ranger Bill.”

“Think we’ll ever see it again?”

“Doubtful. That hawk ate it.”

 

 

**SOMEWHERE ALONG THE BANKS OF THE RIO GRANDE...**

**Brrr! Well, that was refressshing! Note to ssself: do not double-crosss your only ticket out of town and not expect to take a bath! Essspecially when ssshe’sss got her feathersss ruffled, ha, ha! Hmmm? I wonder where I am? And what mayhem I can wreak tonight?”**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for reading. I hope you enjoyed it!


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